


Sparks After War

by dynamicallyme



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Autobots win, Dubious Medical Content, M/M, Mentions of Sam Witwicky, Minor Character Death, after war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:32:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4986727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dynamicallyme/pseuds/dynamicallyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Autobots had won the war thanks to their humans allies. As members of a dying race they rehabilitate the Decepticons any way they can as they repair their world. During a medical exam Ratchet notes something of importance and strives to have it corrected before it can cause a major issue.</p><p> </p><p>Title subjected to change<br/>Rating and Tags to be updated as story progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Spark Too Big

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me in a dream. It was stretchy at first and I'm still not so sure what is happening. All I had was a series of dreams that seemed to connect to each other. It's been a long time in the writing of it. I have big gaps between sections still and would absolutely adore any ideas and criticism for it.
> 
> As is I apologize for the misspellings and all mistakes.
> 
> ~~As for something that has to be noted... There is no set universe. Their are some characters that are clearly G1, Prime, or Robots In Disguise.~~

The Autobots had won the war thanks to their humans allies. As part of a dying race, the Autobots never planned to completely destroy the Decepticons; instead the humans helped develop a program patch which would keep the Decepicons in line. Other than the occasional glitch with the program, the system worked well for the Cybertronians. So they had headed back to Cybertron to start rebuilding their world. Their human allies that had fought along side them in the war on Earth also wanted to travel to their friend's planet. No time was spared getting to work after the long journey made short by the space bridge. Reprogrammed 'Cons were put to work in some of the bigger jobs like clearing out rubble from the war torn streets and the Constructicons were sent to do what they do best. After some time Optimus Prime started up a system with the help of his officers. The former Decepticons where to be slowly integrated into society without their program chips. Former Autobots and the oh-so-few Neutrals would foster the Decpticons by making them a part of their households. Of course there were mechs that no one wanted to foster due to how dangerous they could be, how vicious they had been during the war. These mechs where still housed and provided for by the new government.

It was a beautiful day, the ruins of Iacon had be long cleared from the heart of the city; it's war torn streets looked much the same as they did before all hell had broken out. That is if it wasn't for the low hum of work being done just outside the city and the absence of the tall towers that once dominated the area. A few humans walked along the large streets with small air masks attached to their fragile features. Assigned minibots and/or cassettes following them along to kept them from being accidentally squished or ran over, but many were accompanied by their friends.

A yellow sports car sped pass the masses toward one of the rubble clean up crews working to restore the nearby sector, forcing 'Bots to snatch up their companions out of the way. He laughed at the angry shouts that followed in his wake as he headed straight for the overseer and transformed, barely stopping before barreling into her. “Hey Strongarm!”

“Bumblebee. Do you have to race around? Doesn't Blurr cause enough trouble doing so?” the blue and white femme asked the yellow bot.

“Most likely, but you have to understand that I'm just happy to be able to be myself.”

“I hear you, still regulation 6R-12 states that one should not speed in the city unless on the tracks designed for releasing the energy. What would you do if you had hurt a human?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'll be more careful. I guess I'd be angry if someone had sped pass me while Sam was visiting.”

Strongarm let air cycle through her vents in an imitation of a human sigh. “So what did you need to rush over here to tell me?” she asked as she looked out over her crew to see if any 'Bot was slacking off. It was a nice mix of Autobots and Decepticon workers. It made he proud that her crew was so diverse. Still there were the terrible two a little off to the side of the rest of their crew; the larger sliver one hefted a huge boulder onto one of the cars that would take the metal and crystal mix to a factory to be processed and recycled into new building material. Much of it would be transformed into concrete, a wonderfully easy to make and useful human invention. The smaller, lighter frame wrapped long tentacle-like appendages around another piece of rubble of equal proportions before launching it into to the car, making it rock side to side.

“Actually, I'm here to take the terrible two to Ratchet,” he frowned a little as the terrible two to him will always be Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, but Strongarm called the former warlord and his third-in-command her terrible two because no one else would deal with them and they had to be watched very closely.

She tilted her helm before looking off their direction again, “What? He decide to reformat them into toasters?”

He couldn't help it, he laughed. “No but that would solve the issue on what to do with them. I honesty am not sure, only that the orders have Prime's seal,” he data burst the orders to her then at her nod headed over to the two former Decepticons with a wave at the femme. 

The two Decepticons turned and without a word followed the mech. The smaller frame behind the larger, seeming to hide in his shadow. There wasn't any really hiding for any former Decepticon though. The Autobots had to find a way to keep them from revolting, so they fashioned a band that circled their necks. These bands tracked their ever movement while allowing their overseers to discipline them; this inhibitor coupled with the program patch made it safe to keep even the Terror of Kaon a prisoner or war. 

Despite all the precaution, the Decepticons were treated as fairly as the leader of the Autobots could manage. Autobots were often asked to home Decepticons; those not homed lived in dorm like quarters provided by the government. They got the same level of medical assistance as an Autobot. Even energon was disrupted fairly between the two fractions, with special oils, minerals, metals, and materials from Earth that could be bought with either a Decepticon's labor or an Autobot's credits. All this did not make the Decepticons feel less like slaves though. 

One of the things that made this feel more like slavery was the mandatory medical exams. Bumblebee led them down a hallway in a large building. The building was one of the few newly built ones. The cool concrete echoed their steps and made them even louder as the three walked toward the medical ward. The blended metal doors to the waiting room stood wide open, but the two were led straight through to the bright exam room where they were left.

“Ah, Megatron, Soundwave, glad you could make it,” Ratchet waved a wench in the air before placing it on tray and bringing it over to a table. The bulky silver mech moved to sit on the berth without being asked so Ratchet started his check up. “Having any problems?” Ratchet questioned as his assistants tidied up the room before signing out for the day; Knock Out and Hook were the last to leave.

“As well as could be,” Megatron told the medic as he allowed him to manipulate his limbs.

A few tighten bolts, some lubricated joints, and a couple of embarrassing questions later, Ratchet slapped him on the shoulder, “Alright, you're good.” Megatron stood and headed to the door, the silent mech moved to follow his once leader. As like he had done every time since the breif checkup after capture nearly two Earth stellar cycles ago.

“Soundwave,” both mechs paused at the door, “I haven't checked you over yet. Come sit down.” Ratchet watched as the masked mech stiffened. This was the whole reason both mechs where summoned here. He had been going over the former Decepticons' medical files and he hadn't found one for Soundwave. He was reported to come in, but never stay for a check up. He seemed to hide behind Megatron, always stayed close to the former warlord. Because of this, Optimus Prime and Ratchet decided that only the CMO was allowed to check the Decepticon officers. He already had Skyfire come in to check Starscream over, as well as Blurr to look over Shockwave. Megatron and Soundwave were the most difficult as they are not homed, so they didn't have an Autobot to keep an optic on them; Soundwave ever more so as he did not like leaving Megatron's side, seemed to hide behind the use-to-be warlord. His frame was dull, dirty, covered with dents, and so many dings they could be seen from across the room.

The silent mech crossed the space to sit down with a resigned air about him. “Go on Megatron. I'll take good care of Soundwave here.” Megatron narrowed crimson optics at the medic before he turned and left, nearly running into his escort, Bumblebee. The medic thought it would be harder to separate the two, but he had been pleasantly surprised. Ratchet took the time to step around the sitting mech to view him from all sides. He then subjected Soundwave to a few embarrassing questions while he moved his joints to check limb mobility. “How long has it been since your last check up, Soundwave?” Ratchet asked. His elbow joint creaked, but it moved. One of his digits was so caked in muck that he was surprised it moved at all. Ratchet did not miss a single scratch the former spy had. As the medic moved about, he talked and asked questions. He didn't expect answers so he wasn't disappointed when the mech stayed silent. 

Ratchet was really concerned by the time he was finished with his parliamentary check. He couldn't understand how this mech was functioning -let alone moving- with all the rough patch work and miss-wired systems that probably had been that way for a long time. If he did not know Knock Out's handiwork, he would be banging Knock Out upside the helm with his favorite wench right now for such a horrible job on the once third-in-command. As much of a mess as Soundwave's systems were, it would take at least two planetary cycles to fix. With a gruff huff and a mumble to himself, Ratchet moved behind the mech for a belt-clamp. “I apologize for this,” he told his still patient before looping the thick metal around the thin frame and snapped it closed, effectively disabling Soundwave's use of his data cables. They would have to be worked on as well, but for now it would keep the mech for using them while allowing Ratchet to start work on more important places.

He was not ready for the mech to go wild, trying to get off the medical berth and away. Impressed with the mech's ability in his state, Ratchet held him down with a servo around his thin waist while flicking a switch that turned on the magnets on the berth. Soundwave couldn't get up from where he was seated. Ratchet pushed his chest forcing him lay down before he set about arranging the mech how he needed him to begin on the long cycle ahead of repairing the gangly frame. The third time he caught himself sticking to the berth trying to solder a wire, he sighed and detached himself before pulling out cuffs. He made short work of hooking them to the still frame's limbs before he demagnetized him to continuing with his work unhindered. 

A cycle later, Ratchet's shift was over and he was tired. The stoic from before him was bare to the protoform in most areas. Scaring marred a few places, dirt was clogging crevices, while wires were exposed in others, but Soundwave never uttered a sound. Instead he stayed absolutely still even when rolled onto his front. “Hmmm, well all your rewiring is done. Tomorrow we'll clean you up, put your plating back on, see about fixing your visor, and finishing your exam,” Ratchet informed the former spy-master as he cleaned tools before he straightened around the occupied berth. “Now do you want to stay on your front or you want to be rolled back onto your back?” Of course Ratchet's question was not answered, not even any acknowledgment. He jabbed an energon drip into an exposed line with more force than necessary before leaving to get some fuel and recharge for himself.

_________________  


Long into the night cycle, the former warlord stared up at the ceiling. He knew what Soundwave had been through at one time and hoped to protect him from it again. Let the mech work himself to deactivation, hiding in his shadow. He didn't know if he should be relived or not that they had finally been caught. Almost at the point of no return too, but it certainly had lasted longer than he had thought it would. Megatron nosily cycled air into his system before rolling over onto his side. He reached out, digits falling short of stroking the empty berth beside him. His servo fell and he rolled over, giving the empty berth his back before falling into recharge.

_________________  


Ratchet couldn't sleep, something was nagging at the back of his processor and so naturally he pulled up his latest patient files. His systems scans showed a sluggish spark reading and scarring on Soundwave's protoform. The way his armor sat, meant he wasn't protected very effectively, but then his design was streamlined, meant to be fast: like Blurr. Still it was weird because he was a gladiator and he use to be bigger, bulkier before the war. Ratchet struggled to think, how did he defeat Megatron in the rings again? He had these little.... he was a host gladiator!

Something clicked, a host without a symbiote would not last. Their sparks were unstable, Blastor was off world and wouldn't be in touch in time if this was what he was thinking. He pinged Optimus. It rang back and within a joor he was siting in an officer's meeting. “I called you all here because Ratchet thinks we may have a situation with one of the unhoused Decepticons. As you all know any issues with unhoused Decepticons must be voted on by us. Ratchet, can you please advise us of the situation?” the Prime asked from the head of the table.

“Well... it seems we all have forgotten that Soundwave is a host. His frame is highly unusual for a host. Most are blocky with plenty of places for symbiotes to bond to. The last know symbiote to Soundwave was Laserbeak who was blasted out of the sky on Earth. The inhibitor makes it so he can not leave to find a new symbiote or make one and the program patch keeps him from bonding.” Ratchet paused to look at everyone gathered around the table before continuing, “without being able to share his spark it'll get to big to move in its casing.”

Ironhide leaned forward, his red plating catching the medic's optics “So? What happens if that happens?”

“Well... It'll exploded out, maybe disintegrate his frame. I don't know more than the fact that the spark will exploded. Symbiotic/Host relationships were strange before the war. With two hosts remaining, I fear they are even more so now.”

“And what can we do to help?” Prowl leaned forward, a frown on his faceplates.

“Well, without Blaster here, there isn't much we could do to alleviate his situation. There aren't any floating symbiotes that I know of.” Ratchet looked down at a datapadd in his servos, “And what I could find on Symbiotic/Host relationships is that they can make symbiotes, but it requires more time than Soundwave has.” As months open to cut in Ratchet hastened to finish. “But enough energy could be bled off to allow him time to do so.”

Ironhide muttered, “Not quite sure I follow.”

“So... What Ah hear you saying is he needs a good frag? Am Ah correct?” Jazz asked from his place leaning against the wall near the door.

Ratchet shot the music loving mech a dark glare that made Jazz look to see if there was a wrench in hand, before he nodded, “That's one way to put it.”

Ironhide jumped up, “Why didn't you just say that, Ratchet!”

“So what's the issue?” Prowl asked, his bright optics narrowing on the medic and the real reason this meeting was called.

“Well... the program patch and inhibitor needs to be removed before any treatment may be given and to do that...” Ratchet trailed off and Optimus picked up where he left off.

“Who would like to home Soundwave?”


	2. A Spark Too Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave gets taken home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to happy with this chapter. And I sure there are many mistakes so feel free to point the out. Also... mild dub-con. Again not really, but I'm letting you know before you dive head deep.

Soundwave frowned as a yellow mech sped past the humans and their chaperons. Although naive, the Autobot wasn't one to put human lives in danger. He picked up a chunk of rubble and tossing it to a cart before stiffing his spinal strut. The ache of back cables momentarily overcame the ache of his spark. It was two of Earth's stellar cycles that he lost his remaining symbiote. He remembered the white-hot burn of her lost as sharply as he did all the others, Ravage, Frenzy, Rumble, Buzzsaw, and Ratbat. All taken from him. All gone. It a moment of anger he wrapped delicate data cables around a boulder roughly the same size as Megatron just threw in, lunching it. The cart shook with satisfaction.

It wasn't long before the yellow 'Bot headed their way, data bursting the order to follow him. So Soundwave stepped into Megatron's shadow and followed behind him silently. The patch kept Megatron docile, but the inhibitor kept him in line. If it wasn't for them Megatron would have helped him a long time ago by either bleeding off energy or crushing his spark. At this point, the latter would be the most merciful. Still it wouldn't be long before there would be no other way. Soundwave longed to join his symbiotes. After all... he didn't have anything to live for, the war was over; Megatron a shell of the mech he once was and a life of slavery however it's dressed up is no life at all. He stumbled as his leg join caught, but saved himself from running into the former warlord's back plate by a phalanx. It wasn't a good time to drawn attention to himself as they stepped into the building the held the main medical bay.

The doors they were lead through were set wide open and as they passed Soundwave uncurled his field to began the task of tweaking everyone's perception of him in the room. He was here, he already had his exam, he will leave with Megatron. Telepathy, such a rare thing that no one notices it, if it's not forced into their processors. Megatron didn't even know, but he suspected. As he got up after his check up and Soundwave turned to step into his wake, the medic's voice rang out, “Soundwave,” he paused, fans stilled. He didn't even notice Megatron doing the same. “I haven't checked you over yet. Come sit down.” His frame stiffened.

With a resigned air, he crossed the space and sat down on the unoccupied berth. The medic spoke again, almost making him start as it was said next to his shoulder. “Go on Megatron. I'll take good care of Soundwave here.” Megatron had narrowed his optics at the medic before Soundwave gave a silent push with his field making him turn to leave, nearly running into Bumblebee. As for the medic, Soundwave contemplated if he should push with his field again or not before curling it in tight to himself. Never know when the ability to surprise someone will come in handy.

He was circled. He tried not to let the Autobot know it scared him, made him feel like he was on display. His joints were manipulated; the mask, bless the mask, kept his wince from being seen. “How long has it been since your last check up, Soundwave?” Ratchet asked, but he didn't answer. He didn't even know if he had a voice anymore. Just a broken mech without a reason to live. He was asked question after question, it seemed the medic did not care if he was answered of not. Much like Starscream he seemed to talk to feel in the void that was Soundwave.

Ratchet was behind him when he felt the nudge in his field as he gruffly said “I apologize for this.” A clamp looped around him, locking into place to keep his data cables inside their coils. The former TIC snapped into defense mode so strong he buckled against the medic in an attempt to get away. Flee. Escape. But it seems the medic was expecting this, if not from him than another patient. Magnets on the berth held him still and a firm servo guided him down, placed his limbs, tweaked a sore cable as he was rearranged as open as possible. All Soundwave could do was stare at the ceiling tiles. After the third curse as wires were reattached, cold metal locked on his exposed limbs, holding him in place. He didn't move. He had no where to go. They own him: frame and processors. All he had was a spark corroding, reaching for other sparks that were no longer his to reach for.

It took awhile for him to climb from the depths of his processors to realize he was on his front. Armor stripped from him like ever thing else, but age old hurts were gone. Muck from an organic planet clung to him in places, but he was cleaner than he remember... and cold. The medic stood up, gaining the lithe frame's attention, “Hmmm, well all your rewiring is done. Tomorrow we'll clean you up, put your plating back on, see about fixing your visor, and finishing your exam.” Soundwave frowned at the list of chores the medic deemed necessary as he started cleaning up the work station.

He tilted his helm to try and follow Ratchet around the room before the 'Bot turned toward him an energon drip in his servos. “Now do you want to stay on your front or you want to be rolled back onto your back?” When he didn't acknowledge the question the drip was inserted into an exposed tube with more force than needed, making the former spy grimace in pain. Not that it was seen. His pain was never seen. He shuddered his optics, frowning as the medic left the room himself chained within it to the berth and his thoughts.

______________

“Who would like to home Soundwave?”

The question caused... issues. There was an uproar and finally silence within the room. Of course the silence could not last. “Home him? What would we do with him? He needs special care; how are we going to bleed off the excess energy? Keep him around as some type of sex slave?” Ironhide demanded, thumping his servos on the table in front of him.

Ratchet snorted, but it was Prowl that answered, “That's not going to happen. The system is in place to keep that from happening to any 'Bot. Allowing it now, no matter the circumstances would be a disaster we can not allow.”

The CMO opened his mouth to speak only to be talked over again, “Ah never said to make him a 'face slave, only that Ratchet meant it he needed a good frag.”

“Shut up!” the medic snapped, temper flaring and causing the red mech beside him to place a calming servo over his on the table. “He need's the charge be bled off. I'm not saying fragging wouldn't be the best solution, but that he needs a bond. Even the rudimentary one connecting the housed Decepticons to their provider would work. And Ironhide... get your servo off me!” 

The red mech quickly snatched his servo back before asking,“What if he chooses the binder?” The binder he referred to was a device similar in use as an inhibitor. It kept the mech wearing it within the presence of the one housing them. The Autobots offer the Decepticons a choice between a rudimentary bond that allowed the provider to know the exact location, emotions, and surface thoughts of their companion or a binder which kept the Decepticon nearby; it could also be used to punish them should they act out.

“As his doctor, I say the bond is his only choice.”

Optics, bright with emotion, turned to look at their Prime who nodded his helm in acceptance before everyone settled back down around the table. “In that case, I can take him Prime.” Prowl looked back at their leader, “he's logical and will be enough help around the office with paper work.”

“Not sure Ah'd trust him to do your paperwork, Prowler. He was a spy” Jazz slouched against the wall and looked tiredly between the present mechs. Ratchet and Ironhide were maxed out of mechs they could house currently. Anyone outside of this small meeting didn't hold the rank or skills required to house Soundwave who was a formidable fighter, communications officer, and head of the former Decepticon intelligence. Optimus wouldn't house any Decepticon not on a binder. It really came down to Prowl or himself to house the mech. If he was to be housed at all. “Ah'll do it. Swindle is leaving tomorrow anyway, my place would be lonely.” Someone snorted, and in all truth Jazz had been looking forward to being free of obligation for awhile yet he couldn't shake the feeling that it would be a mistake to allow Prowl to house him.

“Prowl?” Optimus queried.

“Maybe he could help Jazz with his reports,” the mech in question responded thoughtfully.

“Doubt it.”

“Isn't he the one that said he needed a frag and started the whole argument?” Ironhide questioned but Ratchet spoke over him.

“Good you can pick him tomorrow, seventeen hundred,” the medic grinned.

____________

It was going poorly. The mech had somehow fought his way up the berth this morning, attempting to get free of the restraints. His aft was in the air and the energon drip was spilled out onto the floor. “What good did that do ya?” he had asked after taking in the scene before him. Of course there was no answer. He had tapped the mech on the aft like one would a sparkling until he once again was laying down. That wasn't why it was going poorly. The mech's armor was so dented, his frame in such a deplorable state that Ratchet had delegated the work load today. The spy's leg joint seemed to be catching on something. Even after he had removed his armor, the problem persisted. It had consumed the majority of his attention until around 1630. He ex-vented, taking the mech, now clamp free after a long cycle of repairs to delicate cables, to the wash racks and told him to get in. While Soundwave was more docile than most mechs were after a full day of repairs, he was looking good. Would look better after he was fully clean.

Right at 1700, Soundwave was as good as he was going to get. Jazz strolled in and hopped up to sit on the med-berth. “What happen ta all his armor?”

“It's being repaired. He'll go with you in protoform so you'll have to keep him warm. I didn't get to his visor today. He wouldn't sit still for it. Data cables are being recalibrated and he shouldn't even unspool them for a planetary cycle.” Ratchet told Soundwave more than Jazz. He grabbed a cable with a short spike on either end. Before Soundwave could react, stuck him near his spark chamber with one end before doing the same to Jazz with the other. “It's like a spark bond, only it'll go away in an orn if not done again. It's thin, not suppose to cause any pain, and its easily broken.” Ratchet hummed at the stiff mech before studying Jazz.

“Basically, it allows meh to know where ya are.” Jazz told the blank faced Decepticon in front of him.

“It's enough to bled off some of the extra charge while you make a new symbiote.” The medic explained while unlocking the inhibitor. “The patch will hurt so...” He turned Soundwave until he was in easy reach of Jazz before he pried it off like one does a bandage. The former TIC collapsed against the seated mech with a static filled whorl. Jazz felt his spark energy flow through the cable, only enough to bind Soundwave to his own spark. Then the cable link zapped with an extra flow and Jazz felt like he was on a high with the amount of energy that pinged back at him. So high his cables locked, his HUD flashed a warning, and overload hit knocking him offline briefly with no time to shout out a warning to Ratchet.

When he came back online it was to Ratchet already checking him over. A deep medic scan made his armor itch as it passed over first him then the mech still slumped against him. “It worked. Ah can feel it.” He told the doctor with a bit of a slur.

The medic looked up and then unhooked them, “I can see that. Bit of a backlash, doesn't seem to be anything to worry about.” The small blemish from the cable would be fixed by auto-repair in no time, but he did check the now housed Decepticon's anyway. “If there is anything wrong, comm me immediately.”

______________

Jazz frowned down at the mech still slumped against his leg. The overload a few minutes before made him feel dirty. Despite his comment at the meeting yesterday, he didn't condone taking advantage of mechs. A quick check of the thread thin bond between him and Soundwave showed that it was normal. Still the wash of excess spark energy was different from the only other time he had a mech bonded to him.

The former spy shifted against him before standing on his own stabilizers. “How ya feeling my mech?” he asked, but he didn't receive an answer. At least not out loud, his field that had been pulled tightly to his frame was suddenly a lot easier to detect. It moved like a living thing against his own and gave away his shock, irritation, and the spark deep loneliness. The surface thoughts that Jazz should have been able to read simply wasn't there. It was almost like he was bonded to a drone.

As soon as he thought it, a sharp spike of anger not his own made him flinch. He jerked back as the crystal clear thought of “Not a drone!” came through loudly giving him a processor ache. “Sorry,” he said before he frowned. How did Soundwave know what he had thought? Was it Soundwave that had spoken in his head or his own thought punishing him for even thinking such a thing about someone under his care. The look he received from the mechs present made it clear that he hadn't spoken. Perhaps he was going insane. 

Ratchet draped a thermal blanket over Soundwave's shoulders before leading them out giving Jazz enough orders to make his helm spin. Strangely enough Soundwave's EM field calmed his processors and allowed him to take it all in. He could tell Soundwave would be a decent housemate. 

He lead the mech into his apartments and into the room that was now Soundwave's. “Okay, so step one, turn up the heat.” Jazz showed the former spy the thermostat and settled him in a nice soft bed piled high with mesh blankets. “We'll have dinner together and after your armor is fixed we'll discuss what you'll do to earn keep. Thinking 'bout getting ya to help meh with paperwork, we'll talk.” He watched the mech snuggle into the blankets with a grin, “If I do something that you don't like, let me know, I'll do the same for you. Come get me if you need me, get some rest while you can,” Jazz turned around and left the room.

Jazz sat at his desk looking at the paperwork Prowl wanted him to do, a report on some incoming neutrals, before he leaned back in his chair and surfed the net. The whole time he flicked an occasional thought down the rudimentary spark link with Soundwave, but he could never pick up a thought. Finally he flicked the one with his spark-mate; it sang to him. Encouraged he finished up his chores, fixed up a meal with lots of minerals for his guest then retired for the night.

It was late at night when his spark-mate crawled into bed and stole a pillow from Jazz's hoard. The sleeping mech curled under a door wing in retaliation and snuggled in. When he finally awoke, the bed was empty again, but breakfast was made and still warm. Soundwave came out to join him after a knock on his door. His visor was fixed.

_________________

Soundwave was being as still as possible as the medic moved him around and cleaned places that haven't seen solvent since before he was a gladiator. At 1700 he was briskly dried and pushed towards a berth as Jazz strolled in and sat on it. “What happen ta all his armor?”

“It's being repaired. He'll go with you in protoform so you'll have to keep him warm. I didn't get to his visor today. He wouldn't sit still for it.” Damn right he wasn't stilling still for that. He worked hard to make it seem like he was just another 'bot. That he had no face. It was easier that way. “Data cables are being recalibrated and he shouldn't even unspool them for a planetary cycle,” the medic continued before he grabbed a cable with a short spike on both ends. He looked at it weirdly before the medic struck, stabbing him with it. Pain flashed briefly and when Soundwave could think again the cable connected him to Jazz. “It's like a spark bond, only it'll go away in an orn if not done again. It's thin, not suppose to cause any pain, and its easily broken.” Ratchet hummed at him before studying Jazz.

“Basically, it allows meh to know where ya are.” Great. He was even more confined. No way h was going to be able to release any of the pain. He was just going to have to end it quickly... But the medic's next words stunned him.

“It's enough to bled off some of the extra charge while you make a new symbiote.” They were going to let him make a new symbiote? Who were they going to allow him to merge with? Jazz maybe? The music loving mech would make decent offspring. The spy's spark thumped in it's casing in joy while his inhibitor was unlocked. So caught up in his thoughts he didn't hear Ratchet's words or brace himself. He was turned a bit and then blinding pain and pleasure. The release of so much energy overloaded his systems and funneled it down the cable to create a thread bond. He collapsed against the Jazz with a static filled whorl.

When he came back online the cable was gone. He shifted against Jazz's legs and the mech asked, “How ya feeling my mech?” He didn't answer. Instead he flicked his field that reached for the Autobot then pulled it in tightly as it made him angry and more lonely than before, the feeling of being so close to someone. Then Jazz's thought of being bonded to a drone filtered over his telepathy and angered him enough to respond in kind. “Not a drone!” The Autobot flinched and he pulled away, blocking the bond as best as he could.

“Sorry,” Jazz spoke out-loud, making Soundwave smile bitterly under his visor.

Ratchet lectured Jazz on about his care. Soundwave stopped paying attention as he tried to ask his symbiotes forgiveness. He was so caught up in his thoughts that when the new bond sang with confusion, he calmed it. Draped a thermal blanket, they where off.

**Author's Note:**

> No idea who is going to volunteer. I only know spoilers.
> 
> Anyone up to beta?


End file.
